


The Art of Life's Distractions

by swilmarillion



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Blood Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Build, Vampires, bros going on adventures and discovering feelings, fucking your former nemesis because why the hell not, you know--the usual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21598693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swilmarillion/pseuds/swilmarillion
Summary: I fell down a trevorcard rabbit hole and ended up here.  Please be gentle; it's my first time with these two :)Title adapted from Someone New, by Hozier
Relationships: Alucard - Relationship, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont
Comments: 37
Kudos: 211





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I fell down a trevorcard rabbit hole and ended up here. Please be gentle; it's my first time with these two :)  
> Title adapted from Someone New, by Hozier

“Can you even set foot in a church?” Trevor asked, grinning and fingering the hilt of his blade.

“If you can,” said Alucard dryly, “then I should be fine.”

“Fair enough,” Trevor said. “I should’ve known the bastard would hole up in here.”

“He is a priest,” Alucard said, shrugging. 

The church was dark, the doors shut tight. Trevor reached out to try the handle. Alucard put a hand on the door. “Perhaps we should choose a less obvious route of ingress.”

“What did I tell you about big words?”

“It’s two syllables,” Adrian said, rolling his eyes.

“So is coward,” Belmont said, grinning again. “Let’s go.”

He’d regret it, later. He regretted a lot of things, later. 

It had seemed so simple at the time. They’d heard rumors of a priest slaying demons with a lance, obliterating them into dust and earning the fear of his congregation. He’d moved onto slaying villagers, meting out justice as he saw fit. 

“Sounds like a Belmont weapon,” Sypha had said.

“Sounds like a whole lot of not my problem,” Trevor had said in return.

“If you’re not going to be a Belmont,” she had said, scowling at him, “then at least have the decency to stop other people from pretending to be.”

“I can’t _not_ be a Belmont,” he’d said, rolling his eyes. “That’s not how bloodlines work.”

“Says the monster hunter sitting in Dracula’s castle, drinking Dracula’s wine,” said Alucard, smiling his infuriating smile.

And so he had gone to track down the priest, as much to shut Sypha up as for something to do. He’d never been one for idleness, and the long weeks of inactivity had grated on him. He had actually been looking forward to getting back into the field. Had been, anyway, until Alucard had decided to accompany him.

“No,” Trevor had said, scowling. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m not particularly thrilled about it either,” Alucard had said. “But Sypha insisted. She’s convinced you’ll get yourself killed.”

“I have a hundred percent track record in that department,” Trevor had protested. “And anyway, since when do you listen to Sypha?”

“Please,” Alucard had said, snorting. “Have you tried not listening to Sypha?”

Trevor had had to admit that Alucard had a point. Sypha was nothing if not persistent. Nagging, he would have called it, provided he was sufficiently out of earshot.

Which is how they had come to be in a dark, damp church, chasing down a priest-turned-necromancer who had started raising demons as a way to drum up attendance at his weekly Mass. It should have been an easy task. The man was a priest, for God’s sake, not a fighter. But the man knew his church, knew its nooks and crannies and hidey-holes, and he’d used them all to avoid an outright fight. He knew he was outmatched, and so he hid, flitting from shadow to shadow, striking out from darkness and melting away again in the face of attack.

Trevor had grown frustrated, flinging out his morning star indiscriminately, taking down chunks of the masonry and pews until the air was thick with mortar dust and debris. He saw the priest streak out from the sacristy, and he let the morning star fly. The man ducked and rolled, narrowly avoiding the whistling metal as it pounded into the stone altar behind him. Trevor pulled back, but the morning star didn’t budge. It had lodged behind the pillar of the altar and stuck fast. He wrenched it, pulling the chain tight around his hand until the metal bit into his flesh. It didn’t move. He cursed, desperately trying to tug the weapon free.

Movement caught his eye, and he watched the priest rise, the lance in his hand. The scene slowed, crystalized, running in slow motion as it played out. Trevor was stuck, hands tangled in the chain of the beleaguered morning star. The priest drew back his arm, lining up his shot. The lance streaked toward him, and Trevor swore again, his stomach dropping, fear turning his blood to ice. He tried to drop down, but he knew it wouldn’t be fast enough. 

Something streaked in front of him, too fast for his eye to make out more than a pale blur. He heard a yelp of pain and a cry of triumph, and white-hot anger flooded him. He jerked his hand free of the chains and reached for his sword, feet flying over the stone floor and up the stairs to the altar. The priest scrabbled backward, defenseless, and Trevor was on him in an instant, sword whistling ominously as it swung true to its mark. 

The priest fell at his feet, headless, blood spreading over Trevor’s boots and spilling down the stairs. Trevor was still a moment, panting, watching the corpse. He had seen too much to trust the finality of death. When the man didn’t move, Trevor finally began to relax. He straightened, wiping his sword on his trousers, and grinned. “See that, Alucard?” he said, sliding the sword back into his sheath as he turned. “Told you I didn’t need your—"

He stopped, words dying as his eyes found Alucard and his brain pieced together what his eyes had seen moments before. The lance had pierced Alucard’s side, traveling clean through and pinning him to a pew. Alucard had one hand on the lance, hissing at the pain of it against his palm, and his other hand on the pew. He wrenched himself forward as Trevor ran to him, pulling the lance free of the wood. He was on his knees, one hand still on the lance, the other bracing himself against the floor. His breathing sounded ragged, pained, and blood dripped steadily onto the floor beneath him. 

“Don’t pull,” Trevor said, kneeling beside him. “The head is barbed. It won’t come out the way it went in.”

“Then pull it through,” Alucard said, his voice rasping in pain. 

Trevor nodded and stood. He grasped the shaft of the lance and put a hand on Alucard’s back. The man was trembling, his chest heaving, and Trevor hesitated, suddenly unsure. “This is going to hurt,” he said.

“Then make it quick,” Alucard spat.

“On three, then,” Trevor said. “One. Two.” He pulled, taking Alucard by surprise, and yanked the shaft of the lance the rest of the way through Alucard’s side. It was, thankfully, a short length, but it couldn’t have been pleasant. Alucard cried out and fell as the weapon slid free, curling onto his uninjured side. Trevor threw the weapon aside and knelt beside Alucard. He pulled up the tatters of Alucard’s shirt and hissed at the sight of the ruined, bleeding flesh beneath. He watched it for a moment, expecting the quick, unsettling healing he had seen so often before, but it didn’t come.

“Consecrated weapon,” Alucard growled, and Trevor grunted in frustrated recognition.

“Fuck,” he swore. “Will it—will you—”

“Eventually,” Alucard said, trying to push himself up. 

“Easy,” Trevor said, a rare softness in his voice. He helped Alucard up to a sitting position, steadying him with a hand on Alucard’s shoulder. “It’ll need to be bound, then.” He stripped off his shirt and laid it out on the ground, folding the hem over the collar and rolling the fabric into a binding.

“Really, Belmont,” Alucard, trying for his old aloofness and almost attaining it. “I don’t think—”

“I’m all for bleeding out vampires,” Trevor said, “but not like this.” He pressed the folded fabric to the wound, drawing a hiss from Alucard at the touch. “Besides,” he said, wrapping the sleeves around Alucard’s torso and tying them sight. “Sypha will kill me if I don’t bring you home.”

“Now that,” Alucard said, “I believe.” He sat for a moment, breathing heavily.

“Are you alright?” Trevor asked.

“Never better,” Alucard said.

“Can you stand?”

Alucard was still a moment more. Then he shifted forward to his knees, wincing at the pull of his broken skin. He slid one foot forward, braced himself, and stood. He stumbled forward, and Trevor caught him. “Right,” Trevor said, ducking under Alucard’s arm. “Looks like you need my help—as usual.”

“Fuck off, Belmont,” Alucard said, but he let Trevor take his weight, resting his arm around Trevor’s shoulders. Trevor slid an arm around Alucard’s waist, careful to avoid the wound at his side. 

“Come on,” Trevor said, taking a careful step forward, waiting to make sure Alucard could keep pace. “Let’s get out of this shithole.”

They had left their camp a few miles into the woods. It had, like so much else, seemed like a good idea at the time. “Away from any prying idiots,” Belmont had said. It seemed far less clever now.

To his credit, Alucard walked steadily and without complaint. Still, Trevor could feel the weight of him and knew Alucard needed the help. He breathed heavily, his free hand pressed to the wound at his side. Trevor hooked his arm over Alucard’s, holding it against his shoulder to steady him. He tightened his other arm around Alucard’s waist. 

They trekked the miles to their campsite in silence. It was the longest Trevor could remember being alone with someone without speaking. It unnerved him. Banter was his deflection, a stupid joke or quick insult his way of keeping the world at bay. He wanted to poke fun at Alucard, to make light of the situation if only to tamp down his own unease, but he knew Alucard would feel the need to respond, and he didn’t want him to waste the breath. 

He was relieved when they reached the site and found their packs waiting, undisturbed. Alucard pulled away from him then, taking a few unsteady steps forward before sinking to his knees. “Easy,” Trevor said, breaking the silence at last. Alucard ignored him, fingers fumbling with the clasp on his pack. “What do you want?” Trevor asked, gently pushing his hands away.

“Water,” Alucard rasped. 

Trevor rifled through the pack and found the waterskin. He handed it to Alucard, who drank greedily, tipping back his head.

“Jesus,” Trevor said, snatching it back. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“Best get out of spewing distance, then,” Alucard said, managing a weak grin.

“Idiot,” Trevor said, rolling his eyes. He capped the waterskin and set it on the ground within Alucard’s reach. “What else do you need?

“Nothing,” Alucard said, sitting back on his haunches and easing himself to the ground.

“Don’t be proud, Alucard,” Trevor said, squatting beside him.

“Don’t mother me, Belmont,” Alucard retorted. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“Asshole,” Trevor said.

“I need sleep,” Alucard said, curling on his uninjured side. “That’s all. I think I can manage that much on my own.”

“Too bad if you can’t,” Trevor said. He softened a little, watching Alucard’s hand ghost gingerly over the wound at his side. “Get some rest.”

Alucard’s eyes had already fluttered shut, and his breathing began to slow. “Thank you, Belmont,” he said, the words barely a murmur.

Trevor nodded and turned away.

He busied himself for a few hours, keeping his mind focused on the familiar tasks of setting up camp. He checked his traps and found a rabbit caught in the snare. That was dinner settled, then. He checked the other traps, the ones meant for more worrisome prey and prying eyes and made sure they were in working order. He went back to the camp and remade the fire, letting it burn as he went to refill their waterskins from the stream. He came back and skinned the rabbit, roasting it over the fire as he methodically cleaned his sword. 

Only when the rabbit was crisp and dripping did he turn over his shoulder to look at Alucard. The man lay as he had when Trevor had left him, curled on his side, one hand pressed against the binding over his wound. It had grown dark, and Alucard looked paler than usual in the firelight. His hair was a tangle about his head, his shirt a bloodied mess. Trevor watched him for a moment. The man was unnaturally still, and Trevor felt a pang of irrational fear stab through him. 

He stood up and crept to Alucard’s side, squatting next to him. He reached out a tentative hand and laid it against Alucard’s chest, his touch light so as not to disturb him. For a moment, he felt nothing, and panic welled up inside him. Then Alucard breathed, and Trevor let out his breath in a sigh of relief, feeling the soft rise of Alucard’s chest beneath his palm.

“Don’t worry, Belmost,” Alucard said, startling him. “You won’t be rid of me that easily.”

“Pity,” Trevor said. “How do you feel?”

Alucard’s eyes fluttered open. “Like I got stabbed,” he said. “With a consecrated weapon, no less.”

“Pretty good, then.”

“Never fucking better.”

“Well,” Trevor said, feeling a little relieved that Alucard hadn’t lost his sense of humor, “I can’t do much for a stab wound, but I do have food and water, if you want it.”

Alucard shook his head. “It’s gotten cold,” he said.

“You can move closer to the fire.” Alucard’s eyes flickered to the flames. There was ten feet of distance between him and the fire. “Come on,” Trevor said, guessing the direction of his thoughts. He slid Alucard’s arm around his shoulders and helped him up, steadying him as he had that afternoon. They walked slowly to the fire, and Trevor helped him to the ground. Alucard sat, knees drawn up, wincing as he settled himself. 

“You’re going to be alright, aren’t you?” Trevor asked, eyeing him warily. “Because I can’t decide which would be worse: dragging your stupid corpse back to your asinine castle or listening to Sypha bitch at me for leaving your stupid corpse out here to rot.”

“Fortunately for you, I’m not quite petty enough to die just to make you find out.”

“Seriously, though,” Trevor said, looking him up and down dubiously. Alucard sat hunched, one hand at his side, eyes closed against the brightness of the flames. “Are you going to heal?”

“I’m working on it, Belmont,” Alucard said, opening his eyes to glare at Trevor. “It takes a little longer when there’s consecration involved.”

“Good,” said Trevor, hiding his doubt behind a grin. “Because I’m getting a little tired of carrying your sorry ass around.”

“You weren’t carrying me,” Alucard said, exasperated, turning toward Trevor. “And I told you— _ah_.” He winced, shifting slightly to favor his injured side. He shivered, and Trevor took pity on him. 

“Here,” he said, shrugging out of his cloak and draping it over Adrian’s shoulders. 

“Not necessary,” Alucard said, though he drew the cloak around himself with his free hand nonetheless.

“You should lie down,” Trevor said. “Rest some more. We have a lot of ground to cover to get back.”

“For once,” Alucard said, “you may be right.” He shifted his weight gingerly, easing himself onto the ground beside Trevor. He sighed heavily, relaxing against the ground, shifting Trevor’s cloak closer around himself. “Thank you, Belmont,” he said again, eyes drifting closed, his voice barely a murmur. 

“Rest,” said Trevor in answer, turning back to the fire.


	2. Chapter 2

The night was long, and Trevor spent it awake, huddled by the fire, a blanket around his shoulders in lieu of his cloak. The fire burned low, the rabbit it had cooked long since devoured and discarded. He kept watch in the darkness, alone but for the sound of the flames and of Alucard’s gentle breathing. 

The hours passed, restless and uneasy. It wasn’t the darkness that bothered him, or the closeness of the trees; truth be told, Trevor Belmont had spent more nights sleeping rough in forests than indoors on beds. No, it wasn’t the night that bothered Trevor Belmont. It was the creature he shared it with. Not that Alucard bothered him much these days. He had grown used to the dhampir’s presence and to their grudging friendship. He might even, under extreme duress, have admitted that he enjoyed the man’s company. That was, he thought, part of the problem. It would’ve been easier if he hadn’t given a damn. As it was, he worried.

He was used to a certain invulnerability when it came to Adrian Tepes. There was magic in the man’s blood, for Christ’s sake. No wound ever lasted long against the remnant of Dracula’s power. Of course, things were a little different when there was a blessing involved. He of all people knew that to be true. Still, he wasn’t particularly worried about the wound in Alucard’s side—not much, anyway. Alucard had been hurt, but he hadn’t seemed particularly worried. Strange as it was, that set Trevor’s mind at ease. 

What really bothered him was how Alucard had come to be injured in the first place. The scene played over and over in Trevor’s mind, in double time and in slow-motion, forcing him to watch again and again as Alucard was pinioned to the church pew. Why had he done it? Trevor turned the question over and over in his mind, but no good answer surfaced. Guilt ate at him, as much for the fact of what had happened as for the nagging doubt that, if their places had been reversed, he would have done the same. It was a kind thing that Alucard had done, a selfless, fearless thing, and the why of it was driving Trevor insane. He felt indebted to Alucard, and grateful, and he hated it.

Or rather, he hated that there was nothing he could do in return. Alucard had let himself be harmed so that Trevor was not, and there was nothing Trevor could do to thank him. It occurred to him, sitting beside the cooling embers of the fire as the sun began to rise, that he hadn’t even done that much. He looked over at Alucard and found that the man was awake, watching him.

“Jesus,” Trevor said reproachfully. “Do you have to be such a creep all the time?”

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” Alucard said, ignoring the barb. “You looked troubled.”

“Did I?” Trevor said, feigning surprise. 

“What were you thinking?”

“I was debating the merits of getting up to take a piss,” Trevor said, standing up with a groan. He stretched his arms over his head and yawned.

“Did you sleep at all?” Alucard asked.

“Nah,” Trevor said, waving him away. “Someone had to keep watch, and you sure as hell weren’t in any condition to do it.”

“Sitting and watching are about the only things I was in a condition to do last night,” Alucard said.

“You needed the sleep,” Trevor said, shrugging. “Now are you done interrogating me? I wasn’t kidding about needing to piss.”

“You’re insufferable, Belmont.”

“Likewise, Alucard.”

Trevor wandered into the woods. Alucard seemed a little better today, and for that, he was grateful. Perhaps he had worried for nothing. He relieved himself at the base of a tree, sighing his loud satisfaction at the release. When he was finished, he strolled back toward camp, whistling softly to himself. 

Alucard was on his feet, kicking dirt onto the remnants of the fire. He looked steadier than he had the night before, and Trevor watched him walk unaided to where his pack lay in the grass. Alucard bent toward it and hissed in pain, his hand going to his side. 

“You should let me look at that,” Trevor said, striding across the clearing toward him. 

“It’s fine,” Alucard said.

“It’s bleeding,” Trevor said.

“Not anymore,” Alucard said.

“Please,” Trevor said, rolling his eyes. “I can see it on your skin.”

“Why are you looking at my skin, Belmont?”

“It’s blindingly white,” Trevor said. “It’s hard to miss.”

“You’re mothering me again,” Alucard said, but he grudgingly let Trevor come near and unpick the knot he’d tied around Alucard’s middle.

“Yeah, well,” Trevor said, gently pulling back the fabric. “You did take a lance to the side. Someone has to look after it.”

Trevor pulled back the shirt and assessed the damage. The wound was a little smaller this morning, but it wasn’t yet closed. It was bleeding, but only a trickle now, which made him feel a bit better. He picked up the edge of his cloak, still around Alucard’s shoulders, and gently the wiped blood from Alucard’s skin. Alucard’s fingers tightened into fists, but he didn’t complain. 

“It looks better,” Trevor said, flipping the shirt so that the cleaner side faced Alucard’s skin. “It doesn’t look inflamed, so that’s a plus.” He pressed the fabric back against the wound, feeling Alucard shudder at the touch. “It isn’t closed yet, though.”

“Not yet,” Alucard said, holding himself still as Trevor rebound the wound. “It will be before long.”

“It’s weird, you know,” Trevor said, finishing his task and straightening up. “Seeing you like this, I mean.”

“What, injured?”

“Not immediately healed.”

“Sorry to disturb your tender sensibilities, Belmont.”

“Don’t be an ass,” Trevor said. “You know what I mean.” He turned away to gather his pack. 

“I suppose I do,” Alucard said. “Although, considering that I’m pretty sure your stupid lance ripped my liver in half, a little flesh wound isn’t much to complain about.”

“Jesus,” Trevor said, guiltily strapping the lance to his pack. “Are you serious?”

“Almost always.”

“That sounds about right.” He shouldered his pack, shifting it into place and squaring his shoulders. “Are you okay to walk? And to carry your pack?”

“I’ll be fine,” Alucard said. “Although, if you wanted to help me into it, I wouldn’t complain.”

Trevor did so without remark, and for that, Alucard was glad. 

“You good?” Trevor asked him.

“As I can be,” Alucard said. “Let’s get going. You said yourself we have a lot of ground to cover.”

The going was slower than Trevor would have liked. They had made good time on the journey out, spending barely a day on the road before reaching the village. After a few hours, it was clear they wouldn’t be making such good time on the return. Alucard walked unaided, and he didn’t complain, but he was slow. Trevor watched him from the corner of his eye. Alucard’s face was stoic, but Trevor had known the man long enough to recognize some of his subtleties. At noon, he called a halt, claiming he was starving. Alucard rolled his eyes, making a crack about human limitations, but Trevor could tell he was relieved. He sat heavily on the ground, breathing hard. Trevor handed him some water, and Alucard took it without comment.

Trevor took off his pack and fished out the dried meat and coarse bread that Sypha had packed them. “How are you doing?” he asked Alucard.

“I’m fine, Belmont. A little annoyed at the questioning, but fine.”

“Would food help?”

“No.”

“Water?”

“You know what? If I need something, I’ll ask. How’s that?”

“Don’t be a bitch,” Trevor said. “I’m trying to be nice.”

Alucard pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Hang on, did you just apologize?”

“Don’t make me hurt you, Belmont.”

“You’re too weak.” Alucard’s hand reached out, faster than Trevor could track, and grabbed the front of his shirt. “Alright,” Trevor said, throwing up his hands. “Alright. I take it back.”

“I’m a little…annoyed,” Alucard confessed. “I’m not used to being incapacitated.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” said Trevor, “you’re far less incapacitated than I would be in your place.”

“It doesn’t make me feel better,” Alucard said.

“You’re well enough to be a dick,” Trevor said.

“If I lose that ability,” Alucard said, “then you’ll know I’m in real trouble.”

“Duly noted,” Trevor said, grinning. “Do you want to sit down for a bit?”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Alucard said. He eased himself to the ground, and Trevor did the same. Alucard was moving a little more easily, though he still winced and sucked in a breath as his battered skin was stretched. 

“Bad choice of words,” Trevor said as Alucard shifted uncomfortably.

“Maybe,” said Alucard. “It’s not nearly as bad as it was, though.”

“That’s good to hear,” said Trevor. 

They passed a few moments in silence, Trevor wolfing down a quick lunch, Alucard sipping water.

“Hey, Alucard,” Trevor said at last, when he could stand the silence no longer. “Can I ask you something?”

“I haven’t found a way to stop you yet,” Alucard said.

“Why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

“You know what.”

Something passed over Alucard’s face too quickly for Trevor to recognize, and Alucard hid it with a roll of his eyes and a scoff. “I made a calculation, Belmont. I knew I could survive a shot from the lance. You, I wasn’t so sure about. And all the things you said about Sypha and hauling my corpse home? It works both ways.”

There was a strange edge in his voice, something Trevor couldn’t place. He didn’t believe a word of what Alucard said, but he was unwilling to press the issue further. Instead, he shook his head. “Well, if there’s anything we can agree on,” he said, “it’s that Sypha is the scariest bitch on Earth.”

“I’m telling her you called her a bitch.”

“Please don’t,” Trevor said. 

“Don’t worry,” Alucard said, smiling. “Not even I’m that cruel.”

“Thank God for small mercies,” Trevor said, rolling his eyes. He took a swig form his waterskin and sighed. “You ready to go?”

“No,” Alucard said. Then he sighed too and pushed himself up with a grunt. “But we should get moving.”

He swayed a bit, and Trevor reached out to steady him. “Are you sure you—” He stopped, catching Alucard’s eye. “You tell me if you need to stop,” he said instead, and Alucard nodded. 

They walked on for a few more hours, the daylight quickly fading around them. It was heading toward winter, and the days were growing shorter. There was a chill in the air that had grown far more pronounced than it had been when they had set out from Dracula’s keep. Trevor could feel the cold against his face, more an annoyance than a danger just yet. Alucard was not so lucky. Trevor could see him shivering.

“It’s getting cold,” Trevor said, resisting the urge to ask Alucard if he was alright.

“Very cold,” Alucard agreed. “We’ll need a good fire tonight.”

“It’ll take some time to gather wood,” Trevor said. “Maybe we should stop for the day.”

“There’s a fair bit of daylight left,” Alucard said. “We should try to cover some more ground.”

“I don’t know about you,” Trevor said, “but I don’t particularly like the idea of trying to set up camp in the dark.”

“Since you’re doing the bulk of the setting up recently,” Alucard said, “I’ll leave the decision up to you.”

“Finally,” Trevor said, grinning at him. “You defer to my authority.”

“I may not move fast at the moment,” Alucard said, “but I move fast enough to murder you.”

“Ungrateful,” Trevor said, grinning. The return of their familiar, reliable banter was, strange as it seemed, warmly reassuring. “I’m going to get some firewood. Can you scrounge some kindling?”

“If I must.”

“Sorry, princess,” Trevor said. “I forgot you’re averse to manual labor.”

“Belmont, I won’t warn you again.”

Trevor grinned again and headed off into the woods. He worked methodically, tackling a task he had done so man times that it required no thought. It was a few moments before he noticed he was humming. It was another long moment before he realized why. He was _happy_. The thought was enough to stop him in his tracks, brow furrowing, wondering what exactly about this mildly miserable situation could possibly make him happy. They were out in the middle of nowhere, moving far slower than he would’ve liked, with dwindling food and the threat of snow on the wind. But Alucard—

He scoffed at himself, mildly disgusted. Surely he wasn’t happy about anything related to that dhampir bastard. And yet, he was. Alucard was looking better, though tired from their travels, and he was sounding more like himself with every passing hour. He hadn’t realized how worried he had been about Alucard until the danger seemed to have passed. “Fuck’s sake,” he muttered to himself. “Worried about a vampire. Someone put me out of my misery already.”

But, his stupid, treacherous brain whispered, Alucard wasn’t just a vampire. He was a friend now, or perhaps as close to a friend as Trevor had ever known. And then there was the matter of him saving Trevor’s life.

Trevor rolled his eyes at his own stupidity and turned to go back to camp. The woods were too quiet for his liking. It gave him too much space to think.

Alucard was on the ground, a pile of kindling at his feet, one arm thrown up over his eyes. The sight sent a thrill of fear through Trevor, and he quickened his step to where Alucard lay. The man was breathing, thank God, though the fact didn’t do as much to lessen Trevor’s worry as he would have liked. “What did I say about dying?” he said gruffly, tossing down the firewood and starting to stack it into shape.

“What did I say about getting your hopes up?” Alucard shot back. He lowered his arm and pushed himself up. “Took you long enough, Belmont.”

“Get your own fire, then,” Trevor said. He struck his flint, and the two of them sat in silence for a while, watching the flames take hold.

“Do you have anything left to eat?” Alucard asked, drawing himself closer to the fire.

“I do,” said Trevor. “Are you hungry?”

Alucard snorted. “I like my meat a good deal fresher than what you’re offering,” he said, baring his fangs in a grin.

“You’re insufferable,” Trevor said, giving him a look of disgust. 

“Five syllables,” Alucard said. “I’m impressed.”

“You’re an ass.”

“I was asking for you,” Alucard said.

“Hmm?” Trevor said.

“The food,” Alucard said, rolling his eyes. “I assume you still need to eat.”

“Are you worried about me, vampire?”

“Half-vampire,” Alucard said mildly. “And don’t flatter yourself. I’m just hedging my bets in case I need a big, dumb brute to help me again. I did get stabbed, you know.”

“How’s that doing, by the way?” Trevor asked, ignoring the insult.

“Better,” Alucard said. “I think the skin has finally closed.”

“Do you mind if I look?”

“If you must,” said Alucard. He let Trevor undo the knotted shirt sleeves and pull back the makeshift binding. He hissed a little as Trevor’s fingers probed at his skin, but he held himself still. 

“It’s not quite closed,” Trevor said, wiping a trickle of Alucard’s blood from his fingers onto the grass beneath them, “but it’s much better.”

“It feels better,” Alucard said. “It doesn’t burn so much.”

“Burn?” Trevor repeated, alarmed. Then he grimaced. “Right. Consecration.”

“Keep up, Belmont,” Alucard said.

“I wish I had something else to bind it with,” Trevor said, looking disapprovingly at the blood-stained shirt in his hands. “This isn’t doing much good anymore.”

“It’s practically closed,” Alucard said. “It’ll survive another day’s walk.”

“Still,” Trevor said, carefully recovering the wound and tying the shirt into place. “I’d feel better if I had something clean.”

“Are you worried about me, Belmont?” Alucard said, smirking.

“Yes, actually,” Trevor said, surprising them both. “You took a lance meant for my hide. The least I can do is worry.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the words hanging between them. “I’m alright,” Alucard said gently. “Really.”

“I never thanked you,” Trevor said, looking at the ground.

“It’s not necessary.”

“It is, though,” Trevor said. “You may very well have saved my life back there. I owe you one, Alucard.”

“I didn’t do it for your thanks,” Alucard said softly. “Or to indebt you to me, for that matter.”

“I don’t care why you did it,” Trevor said. “I care that you did it. I think we both know we’d be in a world more difficulty here if our places were reversed. So thank you, Alucard.”

“You’re welcome, Belmont.”

They passed a moment in companionable silence, Trevor turning away to prod the fire, making the flames dance high and bright before them. He rummaged in his pack and pulled out the food remaining to him, along with the waterskin. “Are you sure you aren’t hungry?” he asked, taking less than he would’ve liked. “I know it’s peasant food, and your poor, refined palate isn’t used to this kind of drivel, but—”

“Food won’t help me, Belmont,” said Alucard gently. “It doesn’t nourish me the way it does you.”

A shiver ran through Trevor, and he tried to push the feeling away. “How about,” he said, licking his lips, a little afraid of the words rising in his throat, “you know, blood?”

Alucard stiffened. “Despite what you may think of me,” he said, his voice hard, “I am not in the habit of hunting humans to satisfy my needs. My mother raised me with more manners than that.”

“Who said anything about hunting?” Trevor shot back.

A strange, tense silence settled between them. Alucard stared at him, uncharacteristically lost for words. Trevor looked away, feeling a flush rise to his cheeks.

“I would never ask that of you,” Alucard said, though there was something strange in his voice now, an edge of need that made Trevor shiver again. 

“You’re not asking,” said Trevor, looking up at him. “I’m offering.”

“That isn’t an offer you should make lightly, Belmont.”

Trevor snorted. “You don’t think I, of all people, know that?”

“I think you of all people should know better,” Alucard said, moving to shift away from him.

Trevor caught hold of his wrist. “Would it help you?” he asked. Alucard’s eyes shifted away from him, and Trevor tightened his grip. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t deflect. Tell me the truth.”

“Yes,” Alucard said, his voice almost too soft to be heard over the crackle of the flames. “It would help.”

“Then let me help you,” Trevor said.

Alucard pulled his wrist from Trevor’s grip and buried his head in his hands. “My patience is a little thin right now,” he said, “and my self-control even more so. Don’t test me, Belmont. Please.”

“I’m not testing you,” Trevor said. “I’m trying to help you, stubborn ass that you are.” He shifted forward, crowding into Alucard’s space. He knelt before Alucard, leaning close to him.

Alucard put a hand on Trevor’s shoulder, keeping him in place. “You don’t owe me anything, Belmont. Least of all this.”

“I know that,” Trevor said.

“You’re sure, then?”

Trevor took a deep breath. “Yes,” he said. “I’m sure.”

Alucard pushed against his shoulder, and Trevor fell back on his ass with a grunt of annoyance. It was Alucard’s turn to kneel, and he slid himself between Trevor’s drawn up knees. Trevor could practically feel the need in him, the desire a palpable thing between them. The rational part of his mind was afraid, his heart beating fast, fear rising in the back of his throat. But there was another part of him, a part he couldn’t quite bring himself to acknowledge, that was exhilarated. There was a strange thrill in having Alucard this close, to feel the heat of his body, the press of his hand on his shoulder. 

“So,” Trevor said, licking his lips, trying to distract himself from the excitement that jolted through him as Alucard leaned closer. “How do we do this?”

“Any way you like,” Alucard said. Despite what he had said about his self-control, Trevor could see how carefully Alucard held himself, how deliberately he moved. He had known many vampires in his time, and he had never seen one last so long against an offer of fresh, willing blood.

“I’m not the one who’s done this before,” Trevor said, and Alucard grinned. The sight of his fangs sent a double shiver of fear and excitement through Trevor, and he wondered, vaguely, what the hell was wrong with him. Here he was, a life-long monster hunter, offering himself up to Dracula’s son. His Belmont blood roared an accusation at him, and he pushed it away, focusing instead on Alucard.

“There is a way I like feed,” Alucard said softly, shifting himself closer still. He took Trevor’s face in his hands, and Trevor felt his cheeks flush at the touch. Alucard’s hands were soft, and they handled him gently, turning his head just so, exposing the tender flesh of his neck. His pulse quickened, and he felt Alucard’s hands tremble in response. “Here,” Alucard murmured, shifting one hand to run a thumb along the curve of Trevor’s neck. Trevor shivered again, and Alucard mistook his response, his eyes dropping away. “But if you’re uncomfortable,” he said, sliding his hand down to Trevor’s wrist, turning his hand palm-up.

Trevor put a hand on Alucard’s shoulder, holding him in place. The rational part of his brain screamed at him to move, to get away from the threat that knelt before him, fangs bared and hungry. The irrational part of his brain was stronger, though, and it loathed the thought of Alucard pulling away. 

Trevor took a deep, shuddering breath. “I won’t be enthralled?” he asked. His voice drew Alucard’s eyes to him, and Alucard shook his head.

“Enthrallment takes an act of will,” Alucard said. “You’re in no danger of that, Belmont. I promise you.”

Trevor nodded. Another question formed on the tip of his tongue, and though he tried to hold it back, it spilled past his lips and into the air between them. “Will it hurt?” Alucard averted his eyes, and Trevor shook his head. “Never mind,” he said. “Stupid question.”

“The truth is,” said Alucard, “I don’t know. I hope not, for your sake, but I can’t promise that it won’t.”

“Do it,” Trevor said, steeling himself against the fear that pulsed in his chest. “Do it before I change my mind.”

Alucard was so close now that Trevor could smell the scent of his skin. There was something intoxicating about it, something that held him still. “I’m not a beast, Belmont,” Alucard murmured. His hands were on Trevor’s face again, tilting his head to the side. “One word, and I’ll stop.” He was so close now, so infuriatingly close, his head bent toward Trevor’s neck, his hair falling against Trevor’s skin. “Tell me you understand,” he whispered, and Trevor shivered, feeling the brush of Alucard’s lips against his flesh.

“I do,” Trevor murmured.

Alucard breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of Trevor’s skin. For a moment, he was utterly, maddeningly still. Then he pressed his lips to Trevor’s throat and bit through the tender flesh.

Trevor knew, distantly, that he was living his oldest, most visceral nightmare. Part of him wanted to pull away, to throw the beast from where he crouched and stop this madness before it really began. It hurt, when Alucard bit him, and for an instant, it fueled his desire to run. But then, _then_ — 

Trevor knew the word euphoria, but he had never experienced it until that moment. The pain ebbed away to nothing, and an intense feeling of calm flowed through him, a pleasure he could hardly recall ever having felt before. He let it take him, let himself drift into a warm, contented haze. Alucard’s hand was on his face, his thumb stroking gently over the ridge of Trevor’s cheekbone. His other hand had fallen to the small of Trevor’s back, holding him steady. 

Trevor couldn’t have imagined how good it would feel to be in Alucard’s arms, to feel the warmth of his body so close to his own. He breathed in the scent of Alucard’s skin, shifting closer to him, letting Alucard’s teeth sink deeper into his skin. Alucard made a soft growl in the back of his throat, and Trevor shuddered beneath him. He reached one languid, heavy hand up and slid his fingers into Alucard’s hair, cradling the back of his head, pushing him closer still.

He could’ve stayed there forever, he thought placidly, happy and content, feeling Alucard close to him, savoring the feel of Alucard’s hair in his fingers, breathing in the scent of his skin. It was a dangerous thing, he knew, but the danger seemed only to increase his pleasure. He wondered, vaguely, if he was losing his mind, his sanity draining away with every beat of his heart. He realized, with a little pang of fear, that he didn’t particularly care. Alucard felt so good in his arms. He would’ve stayed there forever, stayed happy and still as Alucard drained every last drop from his willing body. He moaned then, the soft, pleasant sound escaping his lips before he could stop it.

The sound seemed to draw Alucard back to himself. He pulled away, breathing hard, the hand at Trevor’s back falling to the ground to steady him. A little twin trickle of blood ran down Trevor’s neck from the bite marks, and Alucard, not thinking, bent his head to it, running his tongue up Trevor’s neck, taking the last of what Trevor had offered. Trevor shudder at the beautiful obscenity of the touch, but Alucard seemed not to notice. He fell forward, sated, a sigh of pleasure passing his lips. He buried his head in the crook of Trevor’s shoulder and just breathed for a moment, gathering himself. “Thank you, Trevor,” he whispered, gently nuzzling against the tender flesh at Trevor’s throat. Then he sat back, disentangling himself from Trevor’s grasp, and turned to face the fire, his eyes carefully avoiding Trevor’s gaze.

They didn’t speak for a long while after they parted. Trevor couldn’t guess at Alucard’s thoughts. The man sat still as stone before the fire, gazing into its depths. Trevor’s own thoughts were a mess. He had never noticed, until that moment, how exquisitely beautiful Alucard was. There was a healthy flush in his pale, flawless skin, and Trevor thrilled at the knowledge that it was his own blood that had put the color there. Alucard’s long legs were drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped tight around his legs, his chin on his knees. His hair was disheveled, tangled where Trevor’s hands had buried in it. Trevor longed to bury his fingers there again, to pull that beautiful face to his own and—

And what, exactly? He was of two minds on that front, and he couldn’t tell which disturbed him more. On the one hand, he wanted to kiss Alucard, to pull his warm, bloodied lips to his own and taste the remnant of his own blood on Alucard’s tongue. On the other hand, and far more embarrassing, was how much he wanted Alucard to bite him again. It was perverse, unholy, antithetical to every tenant by which Trevor Belmont had lived his life, but it was true, nonetheless. There was a strange intimacy to the act, a feeling far more sensual than anything he could ever remember experiencing before. He longed to feel it again, and he hated himself for wanting it.

Alucard shifted, letting his legs fall apart, sitting cross-legged on the ground. He turned to look at Trevor, worry evident on his face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Trevor said at once. “It was—” He stopped, the words sticking in his throat, embarrassment pulling them back down into his chest. He shook his head and took a deep breath. “You didn’t hurt me, Alucard.”

“Good,” Alucard said, relaxing a bit. “I’m very glad to hear it.”

“Did it help you?” Trevor asked.

Alucard closed his eyes and let his head fall back, the ghost of a smile writing itself on his lips. “Yes,” he said, and Trevor felt a thrill at the smile the words evoked. “Yes, it did.”

“Good,” Trevor said. For a moment, he was silent, a thousand thoughts warring for purchase in his treacherous, addled mind. “Alucard,” he said, but Alucard cut him off.

“You should rest,” he said. “You didn’t get any sleep last night.”

Trevor wanted to say something, but his thoughts were disjointed, chaotic, and so he nodded, accepting the easiness of the silence between them. He stretched out on the grass beside the fire, wrapped his cloak around himself, and was soon asleep.

Alucard watched him sleep, watched the gentle rise and fall of the man’s chest. He carefully avoided the growing bruise at Trevor’s throat, the one put there so recently by his own sharp teeth. His thoughts were not so easy to ignore. He could still taste Trevor’s blood on his tongue, could still smell the sweat of his skin, still feel the sharp jut of the man’s cheekbone. More than anything, he could feel the way Trevor’s fingers pulled at his hair, hear the way Trevor moaned beneath him, shifting closer, letting Alucard’s fangs sink deeper into his skin.

Alucard shifted away from Trevor, as though the very presence of the man frightened him. It did, if he was being honest. He tried to tell himself that he was blood-drunk, reveling in the relief the meal had brought him from the pain at his side, the ache within his flesh. He never could lie to himself that well. He knew it was something more, something dangerous, something he dared not even think. 

He pushed himself up and walked halfway around the circle of the fire, putting the flames between them. It seemed safer that way. He sat down, drew his knees up to his chest, rested his chin on his knees, and settled in for the night’s long watch.


	3. Chapter 3

It was light when Trevor woke. The fire had been quenched, and his pack was neatly tied and waiting for him. Alucard was adjusting his own pack, his back to Trevor. “Finally awake, are you?” Alucard said, his voice light and teasing.

“Damn your ears,” Trevor grumbled, stretching. “It’s creepy.”

“I do my best,” Alucard said, turning and grinning at him. 

“How do you feel?” Trevor asked, pushing himself up and scratching the stubble on his chin. 

“Much better,” Alucard said, his smile going soft at the edges. “Thank you again, Belmont.”

“Let me see,” Trevor said, standing up. He made as if to go to Alucard, but Alucard pulled up his shirt, showing him the unblemished flesh beneath. There was still a mark, and a good deal of bruising, but the skin had mended itself. Alucard looked a good deal better himself, now that Trevor looked at him. He was not so worryingly pale, and he moved with more of his usual fluid grace than Trevor had seen since they had entered the God-forsaken church two days before.

“Good,” Trevor said, reaching a hand out without thinking and drawing his fingertips across Alucard’s side. Alucard shuddered, and Trevor drew back, wincing. “Sorry,” he said. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, asshole,” Alucard said. “Your hands are cold.”

Trevor laughed and shook his head. “Back to be a delicate flower, I see.”

“Don’t make me kill you, Belmont.”

“Seriously, though,” Trevor said, walking back to retrieve his pack. “You look a hell of a lot better, Alucard.”

“As opposed to before,” Alucard said dryly, “when I looked—”

“Like shit,” Trevor finished for him, grinning. 

“Tactful as always, Belmont.”

“Nice to have things back to normal, isn’t it?”

Alucard hesitated for just a second, barely long enough for Trevor to catch. “Yes,” he said. “I suppose it is.” Trevor immediately felt a pang of regret. He almost spoke, though he had no idea what he meant to say, but Alucard preempted him. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll reach the castle before dark if we hurry.”

It was an uneventful trip, and they passed the hours in silence, but for a few feeble snatches of conversation here and there. True to Alucard’s prediction, they made the castle before dark. Dinner was waiting for them courtesy of the castle’s unnerving automatons, and Trevor ate ravenously, hungrier than he really had any right to be. He was so engrossed in his meal that he barely heard Sypha’s chiding, her recriminations against their recklessness and stupidity. Her reproach was, however, fairly short-lived. She was far more interested in the lance they had found, and, with Trevor’s permission, she took it to the Belmont keep for further investigation. 

Alucard took his leave as she did, declaring that he needed a bath and a change of clothes. Trevor couldn’t say he disagreed. Still, he was a little miffed to be left on his own. He went to the room Alucard had been letting him use and washed his face at the basin, with its unsettling tap that filled the bowl with blessedly hot water. He scrubbed the dirt from his skin and dried his face, setting the towel down and leaning in to look at himself in the mirror. He turned his head and inspected the bruise at his throat, pressing his fingertips into the tender flesh. 

He hissed at the little stab of pain the pressure evoked, and the memory of Alucard’s feeding flooded back to him, unbidden and unwanted. A strange feeling was settling in his gut, one he didn’t want to acknowledge, and he turned quickly away, breathing hard. He looked around the room, but it offered him no solace. It was too quiet. It offered too much space for him to think. He fled the room and went to roam the castle’s halls.

Dracula’s castle was still strange to him, too big and too forbidding. He hated the place more often than not, but today it brought him comfort. It kept him on edge, kept him distracted from the thoughts trying to assert themselves in his mind. He walked without purpose, without aim, letting his feet carry him where they would, paying no heed to where he was going or how to return. 

His distraction dissolved in an instant, however, when he turned a corner and walked straight into Alucard. 

“Belmont,” said Alucard, taken aback, “what are you—”

Trevor Belmont was not one for overthinking. He was a man of action, of instinct, of following his first impulse and seeing where it led. True to form, he didn’t stop to think, or to consider the consequences of his next actions. Instead, he stepped forward, closed the distance between them, and kissed Alucard.

If Alucard was surprised before, he was shocked now. The force of Trevor’s body pressed him back into the wall, and he felt the breath rush from his lungs. His head jerked back, but Trevor’s hand was there, cradling it, stopping it before it could hit the wall. Trevor’s other hand was at his waist, snaking up under his shirt, rough palm sliding up the smooth muscle of Alucard’s chest.

Trevor turned his head, pressing a trail of lingering kisses to the skin of Alucard’s throat. Alucard’s head fell back into Trevor’s hand, his back arching, shuddering with pleasure. “Trevor,” he said, a needy rasp in his voice that lit fire in Trevor’s belly. Trevor kissed him again, hard, a thrill of triumph stabbing through him as Alucard’s lips parted to let him in, his tongue spilling into Alucard’s mouth. Then Alucard’s hands were cupping his face, and the movement was so achingly familiar that Trevor gasped against Alucard’s lips, losing ground as Alucard pressed against him, kissing him fiercely.

Alucard had been so restrained the night before, so careful not to hurt him. He had no such qualms now, pushing Trevor against the wall, kissing him hard enough to make Trevor gasp. He turned his head as he had done the night before, as Trevor had done to him scant seconds ago, and dragged his tongue obscenely slowly up the skin of Trevor’s throat.

“Fuck,” Trevor groaned. “Fuck, Adrian.”

The sound of his name, so rarely passing Trevor’s lips, made Alucard ball his hands into fists, clutching hard at Trevor’s shirt. He buried his face in Trevor’s neck, and this time Trevor held him, wrapped his arms around Alucard’s back and pulled him close, burying his face in Adrian’s hair and breathing in the scent of him. 

“Tell me there’s a room close by,” Trevor said, breathing hard. “A closet. An alcove. Anything.”

Alucard pulled himself away and took Trevor by the hand. Without a word, he led Trevor down the hall to a thick, imposing door. It opened at his touch, and he led Trevor inside, shutting the door behind them.

They were in a bedroom—Alucard’s bedroom, Trevor realized with a thrill of delight. He looked around with interest, hardly noticing Alucard stalking away, running his hands through his hair. “Why did you come here, Trevor?” he asked, turning to look at him.

“I didn’t mean to,” Trevor said truthfully. “I didn’t expect to find you, to tell you the truth.”

“What do you want?”

For a moment, Trevor was taken aback. He was afraid that he had somehow misjudged the situation, that he wasn’t wanted, but then he looked at Alucard—Adrian, he corrected himself, swallowing a grin at the thought. The man before him was now beautifully, irretrievably Adrian. He was flushed, breathing hard, agitated, and he was looking at Trevor with naked desire. Trevor had to admire the man’s control. Images of the previous evening flooded back to him, Adrian holding his face in his hands, clearly wanting him, doggedly holding himself back. It sent a thrill of longing through Trevor, and he walked forward, going to where Adrian stood.

“I want you,” Trevor said, and kissed him again.

This time, there was no hesitation on Adrian’s part. He was in Trevor’s arms in an instant, pliant to his touch, one hand at Trevor’s throat and the other picking at the lacings of his trousers. Trevor felt a hot rush of pleasure at the touch, felt himself grow hard even at the thought of Adrian’s hands on him. Adrian was kissing his lips, his throat, the curve of his jaw. Trevor didn’t notice that he was being maneuvered backwards until his legs hit the side of the bed, and he sat down abruptly with a startled grunt. 

Adrian was between his legs, his hands splayed on Trevor’s bare thighs. Trevor’s heart was beating fast, anticipation and excitement and disbelief warring for recognition in a mind that only had room for the sight of Adrian below him and the feel of Adrian’s fingers as they curled around his cock. “Jesus Christ,” Trevor swore, drawing a grin from Adrian, who began to stroke him, slowly and lazily.

“Tell me again,” Adrian said, stroking him steadily, laying a kiss to the inside of Trevor’s thigh. “I want to hear you say it again.”

“I want you, Adrian,” Trevor said, shivering at the touch of Adrian’s lips to his tender flesh. He was shameless, needy, desperate for Adrian to keep touching him, willing him not to stop. “I want you, I want you, I— _fuck_!”

Adrian bent his head and swallowed Trevor down. Trevor’s hands balled into fists, twisting the sheets in his fingers, his head lolling back at the warmth of Adrian’s mouth, the clever flick of his tongue, the masterful way he took him down to the very base, the tip of Trevor’s cock hitting the back of Adrian’s throat. He hadn’t realized how utterly on edge he had been until this moment, how much he wanted this without knowing it. He was painfully hard, coming closer to the edge with every stroke of Adrian’s tongue, every thrust into Adrian’s throat.

With a force of will he didn’t know he possessed, he pushed Adrian away and fell back onto the bed, panting. “Jesus, Adrian,” he said, throwing an arm over his eyes. “You’re going to make me come.”

“That’s the idea,” Adrian said, straddling his hips. 

“Not that fast,” Trevor said, his hands on Adrian’s waist, thumbs tracing the jut of his hips. “That would be embarrassing.”

“You Belmonts,” he admonished, grinning. “Always in a rush.”

“No thanks to you,” Trevor grumbled, pulling Adrian down to kiss him. 

“I love it when you say my name,” Adrian whispered, his lips to Trevor’s ear. “Not Alucard. Not dhampir, just—”

“Adrian,” Trevor whispered, pressing a kiss to the hollow of Adrian’s throat.

Adrian shuddered at the sound, and Trevor took advantage of his distraction to pull him down and kiss him. He pushed Adrian onto his back and kissed him slowly, deeply, savoring the exquisite taste of him, the feel of his tongue. He let one hand wander to Adrian’s stomach, slid it down the smooth muscle and let it dip lower. Adrian hissed, his hips pressing up. One hand was at the base of Trevor’s neck, pulling him closer. The other went to his trousers, pulling the laces free. 

Trevor pulled them down hard, exposing Adrian’s cock. He took Adrian in hand and stroked him, shifting to kneel between his legs. He sat back on his heels, running a hand over the muscle of Adrian’s thighs, relishing the feel of his beautiful skin. He pressed his fingers to Adrian’s lips, which parted eagerly for him, slicking the digits with an eagerness that made Trevor ache. He slid his fingers down the length of Adrian’s body. There was something painfully beautiful about having Adrian laid out beneath him like this. Trevor slid one hand down to cup the curve of Adrian’s ass and used the other to push his legs apart.

He stroked Adrian’s cock, and Adrian canted his hips up into the pressure. Trevor slid two fingers inside him, and Adrian’s hips shot up and off the bed, his lips parting in a moan. Trevor put a hand to his own cock, unable to stop himself. The sight of Adrian beneath him, writing and needy, desperate for Trevor’s touch, excited him more than it should have. He stroked himself hard and lazily worked his fingers into the tight warmth of Adrian’s ass. He was painfully hard now, and every soft moan from Adrian’s lips made him twitch, wanting more. He slid a third finger into Adrian. The man was whimpering now, his hands fisted in the sheets. The sound was exhilarating, and Trevor spread his fingers, drawing a cry from Adrian’s beautiful, swollen lips. 

“Fuck me, Belmont,” Adrian growled. “Do it now, before I—”

A filthy moan broke Adrian’s command as Trevor breached him. It made Trevor gasp, made him want to thrust in deeper, but he held himself back, giving them both time to adjust. He braced one foot on the floor and put his other knee on the bed between Adrian’s legs, pulling him closer and letting himself slide in deeper. Adrian’s hand went to his own cock and began to stroke, and Trevor’s self-control evaporated. He began to move, thrusting hard and fast into Adrian.

It didn’t last long, but Trevor couldn’t bring himself to care. He came with a cry, spilling himself into Adrian and falling forward, catching himself with a hand on the mattress. Adrian stroked himself once, twice, and spilled, Trevor’s name on his lips. Trevor pulled back, and Adrian whimpered, oversensitive and raw. He rolled away from the mess they had made, stretching himself out on his back, turning his head to look at Trevor.

“What have we done, Belmont?” he asked, a mournful look in his eye. 

Trevor flopped down next to him, rolling onto his side and pressing his face into Adrian’s neck. “Don’t think about it,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Adrian’s throat. “Not yet.”

Adrian threaded his fingers into Trevor’s hair, and Trevor kissed him again, his lips warm and gentle against Adrian’s skin. “Alright,” Adrian relented, yielding to the solid warmth of Trevor beside him. “Not yet.” Trevor curled in toward him, settling his head on Adrian’s shoulder. Adrian wrapped an arm around him, his fingertips stroking gentle circles into the warm flesh of his side. “Trevor?” he murmured after a moment, but Trevor had fallen asleep, one arm thrown over Adrian’s chest, his right leg between Adrian’s knees. Adrian sighed, breathed in the smell of sex and Trevor’s skin, and smiled. “Not yet,” he said again, and let himself drift toward sleep. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor wakes up alone and looks to Adrian for reassurance

Trevor woke up alone—which, in itself, wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Even when he went to bed with someone else, he often found himself alone come morning. This morning, though. He sat up and looked around the room, hoping Adrian was hovering somewhere nearby, as he often did. Adrian was nowhere to be seen. Trevor sighed, and then he scolded himself. Why should Adrian have been there? Why should he have expected it?

Because, said the hopeful part of his brain, speaking in the voice of rationality, this was Adrian’s room. Why should he have left it? But then, Trevor wasn’t sure that Adrian really slept. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He knew Adrian slept—had seen him sleep, even—but it wasn’t the same as when Trevor and Sypha slept. Still, he remembered the moments before he fell asleep the night before—the feel of Adrian’s arms around him, the softness of his voice—and he found himself, perhaps irrationally, annoyed. 

He got up and dressed, turning over the night’s events in his mind and trying to come up with reasons that Adrian wasn’t there. He half-expected him to come in at any moment. Adrian had a habit of sneaking up on him, and Trevor looked over his shoulder more than once, convinced he might be there. But Adrian didn’t come.

Trevor passed an aimless morning, his mood souring with each passing hour. He ate breakfast alone, sitting at the table until long after he had finished. He went to his own room and unpacked the bag he had taken on their trip to retrieve the lance. He cleaned and oiled his sword and polished flecks of chipped stone from the face of the morning star. Finally, when he had nothing productive left to do, he wandered the castle, his footsteps echoing strangely in the deserted corridors. 

It was past noon when he ran into Sypha. She was coming around a corner, arms full of books, and she jumped when she saw him. “Trevor,” she said, smiling as he caught a book that threatened to tip out of her stack. “Where have you been?”

“Sleeping,” he lied. “It was a long couple of days.”

“Yes,” she said. “It sounds like the two of you had a bit of a rough return.”

“I’ve had worse,” he said, shrugging. “Have you seen Alucard today?”

“Just a moment ago,” she said. “I left him in your family’s keep, reading.”

“How is he?” 

“Fine,” she said, giving him a strange look. “Why do you ask?”

“Because he got stabbed,” Trevor said. “Which, even for him, is kind of a big deal when there’s a consecrated weapon involved.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “It is. Frankly, I’m surprised he’s doing so well, given the circumstances.”

“He’s a resilient bugger, isn’t he?”

She laughed. “Yes,” she said. “I suppose he is.” She shifted, readjusting her haul. “What are you up to today?”

“Nothing,” he said. “I think I’ve earned it.”

“You always think you’ve earned it.”

“I usually have. What about you?”

She eyed the stack of books in her arms. “I think I can keep myself busy.”

“Good,” he said. “Need any help?”

“I’m alright,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Alright, then,” he said. “I’ll see you for dinner.”

“We’ll see how it goes,” she said, turning to go.

He watched her until she disappeared, and then he headed for the entrance to the Belmont keep. It didn’t take him long to find Adrian. He was tucked into an alcove, his palms flat on a desk, bent over to examine an ancient, crumbling ledger. Trevor couldn’t help but admire him, standing there—the long, graceful fingers splayed against the dusty wood, the spill of his hair across one shoulder, the curve of his ass—

He shook his head to disrupt that particular train of thought.

“Do you want something?” Adrian asked, startling him, “or did you just want to stare at me?”

“Can it be both?” Trevor asked.

Adrian turned, and Trevor felt a little shiver at the smile on his face. “So,” said Adrian, but he said nothing else.

“Where’d you go this morning?” Trevor asked.

“To help Sypha,” Adrian said. “I tried to wake you, but you weren’t having it.”

“That does sound like me,” Trevor admitted. “What are you guys up to?”

“Trying to track down information about this lance,” Adrian said, “and how it might’ve gotten out into circulation.”

“Any luck?”

“Still working on it.”

“Huh,” Trevor said. 

“Are you alright?”

“Me?” Trevor said, taken aback. “Of course I am. Why?”

“You look…well, troubled isn’t the right word.”

“I’m fine,” Trevor said. “How are you?”

“Alright,” Adrian said. “A little sore.”

“Can I see?” Trevor asked, holding out a hand to Adrian’s torso but not quite touching him. 

Adrian lifted his shirt. The skin below was perfect, unblemished. Had Trevor not seen the pierced and battered flesh with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed the man had been stabbed just days before. Trevor pressed his fingertips gently to Adrian’s skin, and Adrian shivered. The response made Trevor flush, and he hoped it wasn’t obvious.

“I wasn’t talking about my side,” Adrian said.

“What?” said Trevor, lost in his own thoughts.

“When I said I was sore.” 

There was a mischievous grin on Adrian’s face. Trevor was certain he was blushing now.

“Ah,” Trevor said. “Right. Sorry about that.”

“I’m not,” Adrian said. 

“You know,” Trevor said, trying to control the beating of his heart, “when I woke up alone this morning, I wondered…” He trailed off, shook his head, and tried again. “Sometimes these things happen, you know. When things go badly, and there’s danger, and you need a little comfort to decompress. A little release. It happens, and when it’s over...” He shrugged.

Adrian leaned back against the desk, fingers curling over the edge, tapping his long fingertips thoughtfully against the wood. “Last night,” he said carefully. “Was it—”

“I don’t want it to be,” Trevor said.

A smile curved Adrian’s lips, and Trevor felt a cool rush of relief. He crossed the distance between them and kissed Adrian, his hands cupping Adrian’s face. Adrian wrapped his arms around Trevor and kissed him back, one hand cradling the back of Trevor’s head. Adrian turned his head and kissed Trevor’s throat, and Trevor shivered, pressing himself closer.

“Oh, thank God,” Trevor said, leaning into him, laying his head on Adrian’s shoulder. “I was afraid you weren’t—you didn’t—”

“Trevor,” Adrian said, one hand cupping Trevor’s cheek, the other sliding down his back. “You’re an idiot. A beautiful, infuriating idiot.” Trevor kissed him, and Adrian laughed. “You would find that endearing.”

“To be honest,” Trevor said, grinning, “I’d find pretty much anything endearing if you said it with your hand on my ass.”

“I’m going to keep that in mind the next time you’re being difficult.”

“I’m never difficult,” Trevor said. “In fact, I’m very, very compliant.”

“Never once in your life, Trevor Belmont.”

“Try me,” Trevor said, pressing his hands to Alucard’s chest and pushing him back against the desk. “Go on, do it.” He kissed Adrian lightly on the lips and pressed himself closer, slotting himself between Adrian’s legs. He slid his hand down Adrian’s chest, resting his fingertips at the waistband of Adrian’s pants. “You tell me what you want, and I’ll do it,” he murmured, his lips to Adrian’s ear.

“Trevor,” he said, his voice strained.

Trevor kissed his neck, and Adrian let his head fall back. Trevor let his lips linger on the taut skin of Adrian’s throat, breathing in the scent of him. “Tell me,” Trevor said, snaking one hand under Adrian’s shirt. His other hand went to the laces of Adrian’s trousers, deftly pulling them apart. “Tell me that you want me.”

“Trevor,” Adrian said again. Trevor’s hand picked the laces apart and pulled Adrian free. Adrian swore, his hand going to Trevor’s hair and pulling it back, exposing his neck. Trevor gasped, tightening his hand on Adrian’s cock. Adrian’s hips canted up, but Trevor moved to hold him still. Adrian’s fingers tightened in his hair, and Trevor laughed.

“Don’t break my concentration,” he said, shivering as Adrian dragged his nose up Trevor’s throat, inhaling deeply.

“That’s your response to a vampire at your throat?” He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Trevor’s pulse point. “Laughter?”

“That’s my response to you at my throat,” Trevor said, “and I stand by it.”

“You have no self-preservation.” Adrian said. Trevor could feel the sharp points of his teeth as he spoke, and he shivered at the touch. 

“None,” Trevor said. “Thank God.”

“To think I hated you once,” Adrian said.

“And now?”

Adrian kissed him gently, tenderly, his lips soft and warm against Trevor’s skin. Trevor’s heart fluttered in his chest, and he pulled Adrian closer. The threat of Adrian’s teeth so close to him thrilled him, raising goosebumps on his arms. He wondered, vaguely, what was wrong with him, but the flush of pleasure at the trailing of Adrian’s lips against his skin pushed all thought of wrongness from his mind.

“Now,” Adrian murmured, placing his hand over Trevor’s and guiding him into motion. 

“And you say I’m difficult,” Trevor said, as Adrian hissed and leaned back.

“Touch me like that,” Adrian said, “and I’ll say no such thing.”

Trevor grinned and kissed him lightly on the lips. Then he dropped to his knees, braced his hands on Adrian’s thighs, and swallowed him down. 

Adrian’s groan echoed in the cavernous stillness of the keep. The sound made Trevor tighten his grip on Adrian’s skin, digging in his nails. Adrian’s hips thrust forward and his hand went to the back of Trevor’s head, fingers tightening in Trevor’s hair. He guided Trevor’s head, pushing him down hard, forcing Trevor to take him deeper. Trevor kept one hand tight on Adrian’s thigh, fingers shaking, and took himself in hand with the other, stroking himself hard and fast. 

“Trevor,” Adrian said, his voice rasping, needy. “I’m close.”

Trevor looked up at him, eyes hazy behind his lashes, pleasure flushing his cheeks. Adrian tried to push him back, but Trevor wrapped his arm around Adrian’s waist. Adrian swore and tightened his fingers in Trevor’s hair. A current of curses and moans bled steadily from his lips, and his voice was growing strained, desperate. It was driving Trevor to the edge, but he held himself back, waiting for Alucard.

He didn’t have long to wait. Adrian came with a cry, his fingers in Trevor’s hair, buried deep in Trevor’s throat. Trevor swallowed languidly and stroked himself to completion, spilling onto the dusty stones beneath his knees. Adrian pulled him up and kissed him, and Trevor collapsed against him, laying his head on Adrian’s shoulder.

After a long moment, Trevor disentangled himself from Adrian’s embrace, hitching up his pants and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“We ought to be careful, Belmont,” Adrian said, stretching himself obscenely on the desk, still half-clothed and disheveled. He looked beautiful, and Trevor couldn’t resist leaning down to kiss him.

“Why’s that, Alucard?” he asked, brushing Adrian’s hair back from his face.

“We’re in danger of making this a habit,” he said, catching Trevor’s hand and kissing his palm. 

“God, I hope so,” Trevor said, and kissed him again. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor makes a strange request. Adrian doesn't think Trevor knows what he's asking. Trevor really, really does.

Trevor Belmont had never been what one might call a relationship person. Part of that was the fact that he hadn’t had an actual home in more than a decade. Part of it was the fact that Trevor had rarely liked anyone well enough to want to spend more than an hour or two in their company. 

Then he had met Alucard. He couldn’t have guessed that first day—hell, the first couple of months—how Adrian Tepes would’ve have changed things.

Still, he thought, running his hands idly through Adrian’s hair, he couldn’t really complain. He was sitting up in bed, back against the headboard, soft pillows at his back. Adrian was sprawled between Trevor’s legs, his head resting in Trevor’s lap. He was reading, one black-clad knee drawn up to support the book in his lap. He was bare-chested, skin pale against the white of the sheets and warm against Trevor’s own. Looking down at him, long and lean and utterly relaxed, Trevor was sure he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

He smiled, laying a hand against Adrian’s chest. Adrian laid his own hand over Trevor’s his eyes still on the pages before him. “What are you grinning about, Belmont?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Trevor asked, and Adrian’s eyes shifted up to his face, curious. “Must not be any of your business, then,” Trevor said, his grin widening.

“I hate you, Belmont,” Adrian said, rolling his eyes.

“No, you don’t,” said Trevor. “And anyway,” Trevor said, a hand going to Adrian’s throat, his thumb gently tracing the curve of his neck, “how do you know I was grinning? You weren’t even looking at me.”

“Spooky vampire magic,” Adrian said, waggling his fingers dramatically.

“You’re an ass,” Trevor said.

“You don’t seem to mind.”

It was true. As infuriating as Adrian could be, Trevor couldn’t remember ever enjoying anyone’s company as much as he did Adrian’s. All those things that had annoyed him when they had first met—if he was being honest, they hadn’t disappeared, and they hadn’t entirely changed. Adrian could still be a self-righteous, condescending ass, but Trevor was quickly finding that it didn’t annoy him nearly as much as it once had. Or perhaps he had come to understand Adrian differently in the weeks since they had retrieved the lance. 

Whatever the reason—Trevor couldn’t pinpoint it, exactly, though he often tried—he couldn’t deny that he was happier now than he could ever remember being. Truth be told, it frightened him a little. He wasn’t used to things like this, to a feeling of contentment and security that came from holding Adrian in his arms. It made him nervous, and so, most days, he ignored it, focusing instead on the here and now of Adrian’s presence.

“Why must you read?” he asked, running his knuckles along the sharp curve of Adrian’s jaw.

“Some of us like to better ourselves, Belmont,” Adrian said.

“Ah,” Trevor said, nodding. “That makes sense. God knows you need it.”

“If you want me to stop,” Adrian said, closing his book and setting it aside, “you could try asking.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You haven’t had a problem suffering me lately.”

“I’m very patient,” Adrian said.

“Tell me about it,” Trevor muttered, rolling his eyes. Flashes of the previous night came to him, unbidden, and he shivered, recalling the pleas that Adrian so easily pulled from his lips.

Adrian pushed himself up, twisting toward Trevor to kiss him. “If it makes you feel any better,” Adrian said, laying his head on Trevor’s shoulder, “you make it very difficult.”

“That’s practically my family motto.” 

Adrian laughed, and pressed a kiss to Trevor’s throat. Trevor shivered, and Adrian kissed him again. Trevor could tell he was grinning.

“Can I ask you something?”

“If you must.”

“That spot,” Trevor said. “Right there.”

“Here,” Adrian murmured, pressing a kiss to the same spot, one hand sliding up to the hollow of Trevor’s throat.

“Yes,” Trevor said, eyes fluttering closed, struggling to hold onto his train of thought. That was, perhaps, the most infuriating thing about Adrian—how easily he could absolutely derail Trevor, make him forget everything but this moment, the two of them together. Trevor shifted away, and Adrian sat up, tilting his head curiously.

“Do you know what that is?”

Adrian’s brow furrowed. “Is this some kind of riddle?”

“It’s where you bit me,” Trevor said, his voice soft, hesitant.

Adrian went still, his face growing serious. “I suppose it is,” he said.

“You seem drawn to it,” Trevor said.

“Perhaps I am,” Adrian said slowly. He looked at Trevor, contrition written on his face. “I don’t mean to be. I’m sorry. If I’m making you uncomfortable—”

Trevor put a hand to Adrian’s cheek and leaned forward to kiss him. “Did I sound like I was complaining?”

Adrian stroked the spot on Trevor’s neck with his fingertips. “It’s a very intimate act.”

“It is,” Trevor agreed, shivering at the memory of it. Then he looked at Adrian’s face and knew that, whatever strange feeling it had evoked in him, it was nothing compared to what Adrian had felt in the same moment.

“Have I told you,” Adrian said, shifting his eyes to Trevor’s face, “how very thankful I am for what you did?”

“Yes,” Trevor said. “Adrian—”

“You saved me days of discomfort,” Adrian said, “and a lot of pain.”

“And I’d do it again,” Trevor said. “In a heartbeat. But—”

“I know how much it was to ask of you,” Adrian said. “What a violation it was, and I—”

“I liked it,” Trevor blurted out, and Adrian went still, mouth open in a mix of surprise and disbelief. “I know it sounds crazy,” Trevor continued, words spilling out almost unbidden, “especially coming from me—I mean, I’m a Belmont, for Christ’s sake—but it’s the truth, Adrian. And, okay, part of it was the fact that you were so close to me, touching me like that, because _fuck_ , you’re hot, but that wasn’t all of it.”

“Trevor,” Adrian said, something raw and painful in his voice that made Trevor ache, deep in his chest.

“Look, I’m not going to lie to you, Adrian. I was scared as hell to let you near me. I’ve seen my share of vampire bites. They aren’t exactly pleasant.”

“Most of us aren’t trying to be gentle.”

“But you were.”

“Yes,” said Adrian, his voice soft, his face turned away from Trevor. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” Trevor said. Adrian made a face, and Trevor waved a hand impatiently. “Okay, fine. It hurt when you broke the skin, but it was only for a moment, and then…” He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts. “There was something about it, Adrian, something so incredible that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.”

“You don’t mean that,” Adrian said. 

“Yes,” Trevor said. “I absolutely do.” He shifted to his knees and took Adrian’s face in his hands, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Every time you kiss me there, I remember it—how good it felt, how much I liked it.” 

“Trevor, please,” Adrian whispered, closing his eyes. Trevor could feel the warmth of a flush rising in Adrian’s cheeks, could see the rise and fall of his chest belie the quickening of his breath. 

“You think about it too,” Trevor said quietly. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” Adrian whispered. He opened his eyes, and for a moment, Trevor could see a flicker of desire within them. Then Adrian pulled away from him, turning to hide his face behind the long fall of his hair. “It was a very kind thing you did for me, Trevor, but it wasn’t something I’d ever ask you to do again. Not if I could help it.”

“And if I asked you?”

“Asked me what?”

“To do it again.”

Adrian went still, as though frozen in disbelief, a look of fear and concern on his face. “You wouldn’t,” he said, though Trevor could hear doubt in his voice, and something else that might have been longing.

“Not if you didn’t want me to.”

Adrian was silent for a long moment, his eyes searching Trevor’s face. Then he dropped his gaze, his chin falling to his chest, and he heaved a sigh. “It scares me, Trevor,” he said, his voice so quiet that Trevor had to strain to hear him. “Knowing what I could do to you.”

“It doesn’t scare me,” Trevor said.

“Maybe it should.”

“I could kill you, Adrian,” Trevor said, the sudden bluntness of the words drawing Adrian’s gaze. “You know that I could. You’ve seen me kill others like you before.”

“Is this really the time to stroke your own ego, Belmont?”

“Are you afraid of me?”

“I—what?”

“You let me into your bed,” Trevor said, shifting forward, closer to Adrian. “You let me touch you,” he continued, taking Adrian’s hand and, with his other hand, cupping Adrian’s cheek. “You let me kiss you,” he said, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to Adrian’s lips. “You even let me fuck you, for Christ’s sake. Doesn’t it scare you, letting me that close?”

“No,” Adrian said, leaning just a little into the warmth of Trevor’s palm.

“Why not?” Trevor asked. “You know what I’m capable of. Doesn’t it scare you, knowing that I could hurt you?”

“No,” Adrian said again, taking Trevor’s hand and kissing his calloused knuckles. 

“Why not?” Trevor asked him again.

“Because I trust you,” Adrian said. “And I don’t believe you would.”

“I feel the same way about you,” Trevor said, smiling and kissing him again. “Look, I’m sorry if I upset you, or if I made you uncomfortable. I just wanted you to know how I felt. It’s been eating at me a little, to tell you the truth.”

“I’m glad you told me,” Adrian said, smiling at him. “I don’t want you to feel as though you have to hide things from me.”

“Come here,” Trevor said, pulling him close. They leaned back against the headboard once more, Adrian at Trevor’s side, his face buried against Trevor’s neck. Then he kissed Trevor’s neck, lips pressing to the spot that had started it all, and Trevor shivered with delight. 

“I’d do it,” Adrian whispered, his lips brushing Trevor’s skin as he spoke. “If you asked me. If you wanted it.”

“I do,” Trevor said, closing his eyes against the maddening tenderness of Adrian’s touch. “God, I really do.”

“If you’re sure,” Adrian said, pressing a kiss to that same aching, maddening spot. 

“Adrian, please,” Trevor whispered, his fingers pulling the sheets into a knot. “Don’t make me beg.”

“Another time, perhaps,” Adrian said, and bent his head to Trevor’s throat. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr!](http://swilmarillion.tumblr.com/) I'm mostly a Tolkien blog, but you can yell at me about Castlevania too, if you want :)


End file.
